THE RESOURCES OF DIPLOMACY
Determined to drive these unjust suspicions from his mind, the Secretary
turned the conversation into other channels, and spent a most delightful
hour in the park with Madame Darcy, in which they came to understand
each other marvellously well. Prompted by that subtle instinct which
invariably suggests to the feminine mind the proper course with a man
she cares to impress, she relegated her own woes to the uncertain
future, and led the conversation into reminiscences of their common
country. So time fled by unnoticed, till Stanley had arrived at the
dangerous point of wondering why fate had not ordained his life
differently before she had married that brute, or he had--no, no, he did
not mean that! He was a very lucky dog, and Belle was much too good for
him--and, in short, he must go back to the Hall.
To this, however, his fair companion strongly objected. She was lonely,
she wished to be diverted. His time was his own. Considering that he was
partially engaged to two ladies, the Secretary felt this statement
admitted of qualifications. Besides, they were at the entrance of the
farmhouse where she was staying--it was a most ideal spot--he must step
in and see it.
But his reasons were of a more solid nature, and he laughingly confided
to her that his wish to depart arose not from a desire to avoid her
society, but from the fact that he had, as yet, had no breakfast.
"But it is my own case," she cried with a ringing laugh. "I'm starving,
actually starving--it is a most droll coincidence."
Stanley assured her he would not detain her a moment longer, but this
was equally repugnant to his hostess' views of hospitality. She declared
that a breakfast for one was a breakfast for two; if not, more should be
ordered. Her appetite was that of a bird; the repast was humble, but it
was a sin to go without sampling the housewife's eggs and cream--there
were none so good at the Hall, she was sure.
The Secretary told her that he could not dream of staying, and found
himself within five minutes ensconced at Madame Darcy's table.
No liquids, other than fresh milk and pure spring water were served at
this repast, yet Stanley arose fully assured that they were the most
intoxicating beverages he had ever tasted, and betook himself Hall-wards
towards noon, through a maze of black eyes, and dazzling flashes of
beauty, his brain vibrating with a voice, whose tones were the poetry of
sound.
A vision of the Dowager Marchioness of Port Arthur, placidly seated on
the lawn, under a green umbrella, with a book in her lap, and evidently
on the borderland of sleeping and waking, brought him to earth once
more.
It would be better to interrupt her matutinal slumbers, and get one of
his two dreaded interviews over. She looked rather too composed, he
thought, for a disappointed mother, and he was sure she would be that,
did she know the truth. He coughed discreetly, and approached, slowly
enough to permit her Ladyship to quite recover her senses, before he
arrived by her side.
It would not do to appear too downcast before being informed of the
hopelessness of his suit, so putting on his best society manner, and
reflecting that an adversary disconcerted is an adversary at a
disadvantage, he asked, as if it were quite the most ordinary of
questions:
"How beautiful are your feet--Lady Port Arthur?"
"Dear me, young man!" exclaimed her Ladyship, now thoroughly awake,
"they've always been considered beautiful; but why should you ask?"
"My reference was scriptural, purely scriptural, I assure you-- I was
referring to the feet of the messengers upon the mountains, who bring
good tidings. You'll find it in Isaiah. Are you one of them?"
"There are no mountains in Sussex, and the rising generation knows
entirely too much," snapped out the Dowager. "As for you-- I've
conferred with my daughter----"
She _has_ told her, thought the Secretary, preparing to draw down his
mouth to the requisite expression of woe.
"--And it gives me great happiness to tell you----" she continued,
beaming on Stanley in spite of his flippancy, at which that gentleman
drew down his mouth in good earnest, as he realised that she was still
undeceived.
"--It gives me great happiness to tell you, that I believe your suit
will have a favourable termination. She has promised to consider it."
"Oh," said the Secretary; and then, recollecting himself, added:
"It's very good of her, I'm sure."
If he had the opportunity, after lunch, he mentally determined to give
Lady Isabelle a piece of his mind.
"It's an honest soul," continued her Ladyship, not noticing the
interruption, "which refuses the promptings of her heart. Her hesitancy
is quite natural, I assure you, and most becoming. When his Lordship
asked the honour of my hand----" The Dowager sighed at the sweetness of
reminiscence, and again took up the thread of her discourse.
"My daughter told me that she could not, without reflection, be certain
of the state of her affections. Make allowance for her, Mr. Stanley, she
is very young. Believe me, I should not speak as I do, were it not for
the fact that I have known the world well--in my youthful days--though
this you would scarcely believe, I dare say--I was one of the
acknowledged leaders of the court."
"Your Ladyship's wit and beauty are a bye-word in all good society, and
one has only to see you, to realise that they have been enhanced by the
added grace of years," murmured the Secretary, doing his prettiest.
"You're a deceitful diplomat, and I don't believe you," said the
Dowager, giggling and pretending to be very angry, but vastly pleased,
none the less; and, giving him a flabby pat with one of her expansive
hands, she continued:
"You must not be downhearted, however; leave everything to me."
The Secretary assured her that he felt quite safe to trust his heart in
the keeping of one who had held the custody of so many, and was rewarded
for his flattery by a further proof of the Dowager's confidence.
"Take my advice, dear James----" she began; but Stanley felt this was a
step too far, and hastened to put himself on the defensive.
"That is not my name, Lady Port Arthur," he said, quietly.
"But surely," she continued, pressing her point, "your friends call you
by a disrespectful contraction of it.
"Jim?" he asked, laughing. "Oh, that's because my Christian name is
quite unfitted for ordinary usage--it's only brought out on state
occasions."
"May I inquire what it is?"
"Aloysius."
"Dear me, no, I don't think I could call you that; but as I was saying,
if you take my advice you'll see as little as possible of Isabelle
to-day. Leave her to herself; it's far wiser."
The Secretary felt decidedly relieved.
"I quite agree with you," he replied. "You may depend on my following
your advice to the letter," and he turned towards the house.
"One point more," she said, detaining him with a gesture, "I strongly
disapprove of secret engagements. I don't wish the insinuations made
against my daughter that one hears about that impudent young minx, Miss
Fitzgerald.-- Why, they actually hinted that she was engaged to you!"
"Dear me! Did they?" murmured Stanley.
"If there is the happy issue that we both wish, I should desire that our
friends here, if not society in general, should know it immediately."
"My dear lady," said the Secretary impressively, "the moment that your
daughter tells you definitely that she accepts my offer of marriage, you
may announce it to the whole world; till that time, however, I must
insist, that for her sake as well as mine, you be most discreet," and he
bowed himself from her presence.
The Marchioness sank back in her chair with a sigh of placid
contentment. Her work in life was, she believed, on the eve of
successful accomplishment, and that most agonising period to a
mother--the time from her daughter's coming out to that young lady's
engagement--was safely over. On the whole her child had behaved
unusually well; but of late she had suffered some inquietude of spirit,
owing to the attentions of Kingsland, whom she, in common with all
mothers of the social world, listed as belonging to the most dangerous
and formidable class of youths that a girl, who has any pretensions to
being a _partie_, can encounter.
In the case of the Lieutenant, however, Lady Port Arthur flattered
herself that she had nipped matters in the bud, by the best of all cures
for a romantic, impossible lover, _i.e._ a prospective husband. True,
Mr. Stanley was not of noble family, she feared his people might even be
called commercial; but he was eminently safe, and possessed of a
substantial income wherewith to support the glories of the noble name of
Port Arthur. In short, he was an admirable solution of the difficulty.
The Marchioness felt she was justified in taking forty winks, and did
so.
Luncheon rather amused the Secretary than otherwise. He obeyed the
Dowager's instructions to the letter, sat as far from Lady Isabelle as
possible, and by the caprice of fate, found himself next to Miss
Fitzgerald, who, with admirable foresight, treated him exactly as if
nothing had happened, and that being half engaged to a man was the
normal state of her existence. This put Stanley quite at his ease, and
even Belle's fictitious claim on his services for the afternoon, based
on her unsupported declaration that he had asked her to drive with him
in the pony cart at four, a proposition he would never have dreamed of
making, was accepted by him as a matter of course. A proceeding which
elicited an expansive smile from the Dowager, who considered it a
deep-laid diplomatic plot, in furtherance of her suggested plan of
campaign.
The Secretary's attention was, however, mainly directed to Kingsland and
Lady Isabelle, who sat side by side at table, and who acted, in his
opinion like a pair of fools, till it seemed as if everyone present must
guess the true state of affairs. As a matter of fact, no one did, and
Stanley, seeing this, was once more reassured; for he did not wish to
play his little part to more of an audience than was absolutely
necessary.
Mr. Riddle, towards whom the Secretary, in view of the night's
disclosures, felt even a stronger antipathy, was in high spirits, until
he was silenced by Mrs. Roberts, who assured the company that she had
caught him in the act of aiding and abetting the cottager's children to
make mud pies in the public highway.
"I really couldn't help it," he said, excusing himself shamefacedly,
"the dear little things were pining for some one to play with, and we
did have such fun--and got so grubby;" and there was such a genuine ring
of honest pleasure in his tones, that Stanley again found cause to
wonder which was the true man.
Something like an hour later, the Secretary emerged on the driveway, to
find the pony cart and Belle, got up in faultless style; and as he
looked on the technical mistress of his heart, she seemed so
exceedingly fair and gracious, that his morbid imaginings vanished away
like smoke, under the spell of her presence.
"I'm afraid you'll be very angry with me," she said, apologetically;
"but when I proposed our drive this afternoon, I'd quite forgotten a
promise I made to Mr. Lambert to go and see a poor, sick, old woman, a
parishioner of his."
"Then I suppose the drive is off?"
"Not at all, if you'll be a dear, good, self-sacrificing Jimsy, and do
what you're told."
"What's that?"
"Just jump into the cart and take it round to the north gate--it's a
couple of miles I know--but I'll walk straight across the fields, make
my visit, and be at our rendezvous almost as soon as you are. I'll
promise not to keep you waiting over ten minutes at the longest. Will
you do it?"
"Certainly, if I may solace myself with a cigar while I wait."
"Two, if you like; but you won't have time to smoke them. Now off you
go," and waving her hand to him, she watched him disappear round the
corner of the house.
Once he was out of sight, Miss Fitzgerald lost no time in producing,
from the mysterious recesses of her pocket, a telegram, the delivery of
which she had intercepted, which she surveyed long and critically.
A telegram is generally regarded as best serving its purpose when most
promptly delivered; but in the case of this message, Miss Fitzgerald
evidently felt it would improve by keeping, for it had arrived during
the morning, and was now some hours old. The time had come, however,
when it should be delivered to its proper owner, and she accordingly
went in search of Lieutenant Kingsland.